


Are you next?

by ChocoNut



Series: Many ways to say I love you [73]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Diverges after 8x3, F/M, Fluff, Season 8, The feast never happens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:07:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25148929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocoNut/pseuds/ChocoNut
Summary: Sam and Gilly get married after the long night, and someone has the colours for Jaime and Brienne's clothes for the ceremony swapped. Much to their embarrassment, the result is a beginning of speculations that they could be the next to take a trip to the Godswood.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Series: Many ways to say I love you [73]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1234904
Comments: 14
Kudos: 104





	Are you next?

“Red suits you well, Ser Brienne,” Samwell Tarly observed, shooting Jaime a fleeting glance as he complimented her. “Ser Jaime’s house colours, I see.”

Brienne attempted to smooth down the imaginary creases on her simple, but elegant gown. “Yes, but--”

“All it lacks is his sigil,” the young maester noted, peering closely at her.

“You misunderstand,” Brienne tried to protest. “It’s--”

“Are you two next?” Sam’s eyes were round with excitement. “Are you secretly betrothed? It gives me such great pleasure to bear the knowledge that mine seems to be the beginning of more such long-awaited marriages. So when do you intend placing your cloak on her, Ser--”

“He intends to do nothing of that sort,” Brienne unnecessarily snapped at him. “The colours of our clothes were interchanged by the seamstress,” she added, toning down her harshness. “It’s no more than a mistake. There will be no wedding, I’m afraid.”

Sam didn’t probe further, but regarded them with curiosity, the gleam in his eyes, a doubtless indicator that he believed not a single word of what she’d fed him. “I’ll see you at the feast later tonight.”

“I should be going too.” Alone with him as soon as Sam had rushed away to be with his new wife, Brienne carefully avoided looking at him. “I have matters to attend to before the feast.”

“I’ll escort you to the castle,” Jaime graciously offered.

She didn’t object, but didn’t look at him either, and they walked in silence with Jaime alternating between mulling over the mis-happenings of their clothes and the mysterious quiet of his companion. Was this really a mistake? Or was it a jape his brother had played on them? Tyrion, he had noticed, had wasted no time encouraging him to look past their sister and find something meaningful with Brienne. 

And Jaime was more than willing to embark on this new journey with her.

If only the wench wasn’t bent on treating him with such formality. While she did make it obvious that she cared for him, respected and liked him, and maybe even... there still was the aloofness she bore towards him, that irksome distance she kept, the invisible wall between them that kept him from pouring his heart out--

“Blue is a good colour on you, Jaime.” They stopped to find Tyrion hurrying towards them, his eyes were dancing with mischief and mirth. “It brings out the depth and clarity of your choices,” he smugly noted, his mouth shaping into a grin.

“So it was you,” Jaime confronted his little brother, certain this was his ploy. “Now that you’ve achieved what you’ve wanted, have you come here to gloat?”

Tyrion’s eyes went back and forth between his two companions. “You tell me, brother. Have I achieved what I set out to?”

Jaime felt as if someone had set his ears on fire. “I don’t know what you mean--”

“Has my brother asked you to marry him, my lady? Are you next in line?”

Brienne’s face was on the way to mirroring the colour of her dress. “Lord Tyrion, it isn’t what you think it is.”

“It _is_ , ser,” he assured her with an air of confidence. “He came all this way for you. You defended each other fiercely, ready to die for one another, and now--” No longer smiling, he was all seriousness. “Now you don each other’s colours at another’s wedding. If this isn’t a sign from the gods, what is?”

“Tyrion--”

“I hope to see another ceremony at the Godswood soon. I really wish it were you two next.” After this flippant reveal of his expectation, Tyrion was gone, once again, leaving Jaime in the company of an embarrassed Brienne.

“I told you it _was_ him,” Jaime muttered as they set off again. “The master mischief-monger at play.”

In reply to that, she only sighed, but said nothing, wary, perhaps, of this mess they’d been forced to deal with. Her lack of interest in a conversation nudged and poked him, forcing him to pick his mind. It could be worse than just mere irritation towards a childish joke. She might be averse to the idea of marriage. 

Or, probably, the prospect of spending an entire lifetime with _him_ was too much for her to bear.

“Ah, here you are.”

Jaime’s first instinct was to pretend they weren’t interrupted, for this wasn’t someone he wanted to spend even a minute with, let alone engaging in an entire conversation with him.

“Ser Brienne.” Tormund approached them, eyes on the wench, greedy and lecherous, as if he’d rip her clothes open and ravish her right now if he could. “There’s a lot of talk going on about you two,” he grunted, looking at Jaime as if he were some vermin, fit to be crushed under a boot. “I heard you’re next--”

“ _Yes,_ ” Jaime hissed in the most poisonous tone he could manage, his agitation at having to deal with their unsavoury intruder, getting out of his control. “What you’ve heard is right, Giantsbane. I did ask Lady Brienne to marry me and she has very kindly consented,” he lied, for whatever it was worth. “The wedding’s at the Godswood, two days from today.”

“Oh.”

His rival stared at him in disbelief, and when Brienne said nothing to refute this tall claim, Tormund mumbled a gruff, half-hearted _congratulations_ to her and removed himself from their company.

Relieved, Jaime resumed their walk back home which was now beginning to seem endless, when Brienne grabbed his hand. “What the hell was that?”

“Well, he was troubling you--”

“He wasn't troubling me.” Gone was her embarrassment. She looked livid, as if she’d pull out her sword and hack him to pieces. “Why did you have to--”

“Why do you have to keep acting like marrying me is the worst fate you can end up with, Brienne?” Earlier that evening it was Sansa who had first asked if they were next. Then came Sam with his enthusiastic inquiry, followed by Tyrion. Every single time, she’d retaliated like they’d suggested she consume poison. And it was killing him from inside. “A life with me - is it that bad--”

“It’s not that--” she blushed to the shade of her dress. “People have started assuming that we’re… I wanted to quell the rumours before they got out of hand.”

“Rumours, huh?” He looked around to check if they were alone. “What makes you think they’re just _that_?”

“Because--” she faltered, clearly at a loss for a valid point to argue.

“Are you interested in Tormund Giantsbane?” He couldn’t stand the thought of this possibility, but he had to find out, nevertheless. “Did it bother you when I fed him the tale of our upcoming union?”

“What?” Her face was a picture of disgust and distaste, an answer, clearly in Jaime’s favour as far as the wildling was concerned. “I-- I have to go now, Ser--”

“Do you love me, wench?”

Her features transformed into something soft and shy. “I need to get back to the castle.” 

She tried to escape, but he planted himself in her path. “Will you marry me, Brienne?” So suddenly, it left his lips, no sweet words to precede it, no romantic wooing to lace it with all it needed.

“Yes,” she blurted, flushed, her brows dotted with perspiration despite the cold. If his un-decorated declaration of love had left him surprised with himself, the spontaneity of her consent had a greater effect, stunning him to silence. But his joy was short-lived, for she glanced down at her feet as if in regret, then at him. “I-- I mean, I can’t.”

Tearing her gaze away, she raced ahead, but he caught up with her, confused. “Why not? Your immediate answer was a wholehearted _yes_.”

“You and I--” Her voice cracked and her eyes were pools of disappointment. “It’s never meant to happen, Ser Jaime. No matter how hard your brother tries--”

“Tyrion might have sabotaged our clothes as a joke--” He stepped closer to caress her face. “--but look at what his well-intended mischief ended up in, Brienne.” He let his fingers sail down to the scar on her neck, breezing across her soft skin. “I’m glad he trapped us like this, my lady.”

Stepping away, she shook her head in dejection. “Look at us, Ser Jaime. Our fates are such that we always end up on opposite sides.” The pain in those astonishing eyes screamed of her love for him, and for Jaime, that was good enough. Words weren’t necessary. “Queen Daenerys has decided to wage a war on your sister. After all we’ve been through, the gods have shoved us back to where we were at Riverrun. You would defend your queen, your sister, whereas I--”

“Let’s stop taking sides then.” Jaime wrapped his arm around her waist. “Let’s stop living our lives for others.” Drifting closer, he traced her lips with his thumb. “Let’s think of ourselves, for a change, Brienne, and ride away from all this, this very instant. To Tarth, perhaps, where we can build a future.” His mind began painting a pretty picture. “Our future.” 

She had no argument, this time, but he could sense her mind whirring, digesting this new adventure he was inviting her to.

“Harrenhal, King’s Landing, Riverrun--” he looked into her eyes to find the same ache, yearning and the signs that she’d been pining for him “--I’m tired of parting ways with you, Brienne. Not anymore. I’m not leaving Winterfell without you.”

“Ser Jaime--”

“ _Jaime_.” When she didn’t resist his touch this time, he drew her into his arms. “It wouldn’t be appropriate for my lady wife to use her husband’s title, would it?”

Her mouth shivered in a smile beneath his touch. “Your wife?”

“Stop pretending to be coy, wench,” he teased, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Did you not accept my proposal a few minutes back?”

“That was--”

“--a knight’s promise,” he said, his mouth meeting hers. “And your heart knows better than to deny it, my dear ser. Besides, a newly anointed knight wouldn’t want to break a sacred vow, would she?”

Brienne shook her head, her face glowing like the setting sun when she surrendered to his arms. “No, Jaime,” she whispered, cupping his face. “She wouldn’t.” 

She melted into his kiss, her lips, no more a seductive dream, her warm body, no longer an elusive illusion. Such great bliss, he was filled with, that Jaime was surprised his heart didn’t come bursting out of his chest.

His brother and everyone else had been right. They were next, and a trip to the Godswood, two days from now, it would be.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, as always, for reading and your support :) I'm not too chatty in my notes, but believe me, your kudos and comments mean SO MUCH to me <3


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